RPlog:The Sin of a Selas
The steady thrum of the ship's giant engines hurling the vessel through space permeates the area like any other ship, sounding in Simon's ears like the approach of a huge storm, perpetually drawing nearer but never arriving. People accustomed to such travel omitted the sound from their conscious mind, just as Simon and his people would ignore the sounds of bugs chirping and carrying on at twilight in the deep forests. With the image of angry storm clouds roiling in his mind, the Selas finds himself wandering into the quiet medbay before he knew where his feet were taking him. A frown dominates his face as he stops just inside the door, suddenly aware of where he was. He had meant to find some place quiet to meditate, not visit the ship's singular, quiet patient. Yet, here he was, and there she was, silent as when they'd dragged her from the stasis chamber. Focusing his ice blue eyes on her quiet form, he moves silently to her side. There, he draws a chair up next to her bed and sits down. Despite having been literally dragged from the watery tomb of her stasis tank and being transported halfway across the galaxy, the expression on the fallen Jedi's face has never changed. And, surprisingly, it isn't the usual expression one may have of peaceful sleep. Instead, her face is quiet, almost blissful, almost... aware. She rests with her head nestled into the pillow, the dark red waves of hair falling across her shoulders, the various monitoring devices beeping vigilantly as they check her vital signs. She wears the typical gray medical smock, with a light coverlet draped across her and tucked into the bunk. In another land, another time, fairy tales were told of Princes sweeping in on their riding beasts to rouse thier beloved Princess from a deep, fatal slumber with a kiss or gesture of their affection and faithfulness. They were not in that land, however, nor on any land whatsoever as they hurtled through the icy void of space. On Telgosse, Simon never heard of such fairy tales growing up, and he was no Prince. Jessalyn Valios was probably not a princess, either, but Simon wouldn't be able to say. She was not his beloved... he didn't even know her. As Simon studies Jessalyn's silent form, he ponders the apparent, phantom lucidity with which she seemed to rest with. Was she dreaming? Could she feel the air around her stir at his passing? Sighing deeply, he picks up one of Jessalyn's hands in his own in a comforting gesture. Could she feel his presence? There was a forbidden thing he could do. In a moment of weakness, Simon had once reached out, fumbling through the True Source to contact someone that sought him in the same way. It was an evil thing, reaching into someone's mind and soul. One could not touch something that was perfect without marring it, and the soul was the one perfect gift granted at birth by the True Source. But what of a soul that was already in peril? Was it an abomination to try and heal someone's soul through the True Source? Was it even possible? These thoughts and others chase through Simon's mind, his self-doubt battling with his need to do more than sit still. Patience and peace were the keys to elevation, yet it was not elevation that he sought now, but redemption. He had sided himself with an evil person to break this person from her isolated prison. Could he not somehow combat the evil by doing good? Could he do good by doing what he knew to be a primarily evil act? "Even the oldest trees need pruning from time to time," Simon says quietly to himself. It was an old Selas saying. Closing his eyes, taking another deep breath, he begins to center himself, reaching for his connection to the True Source, the connection that tied him to all living things. Even the sleeping Jessalyn Valios. Since she is a well-trained Jedi, Jessalyn's presence is a vivid aura easily perceptible by any Force-sensitives nearby, even without reaching out to touch her mind. The outer layers of her consciousness are abuzz with those things that have made her, shaped her into the person she is -- memories and images of a life Simon has no knowledge of. They flicker and fade, some of them stronger than others, but all of them attached to some emotion. Some of the people may seem familiar: the Sith woman Lara, her eyes ablaze with furious intent; Emperor Valak, holding some strange contraption in his hand that flashes with light before disappearing into oblivion; the leaders of the old Rebellion -- Princess Leia, Han Solo, and a good deal of affection for the tall Wookiee Chewbacca. And of course, her master, Luke Skywalker. But the deeper one delves into the layers of her mind, the more obvious it becomes that her consciousness is tightly reined in, like a living rainbow trapped impossibly inside a bottle. And the part of her brain that would normally be 'switched off' in this mode of sleep she is in, seems, for some strange reason, to be fully in use, as if she were indeed awake and conscious. At first, Simon finds himself more at peace as he proceeds with the exercise. It was always pacifying, allowing himself to feel True Source as it passed through him and surrounded him, connecting him to the hand he held in his own as the radiating life forces of the others in the ship. The frown that had dominated his countenance upon entering the medbay relaxes somewhat, and for a moment, Simon looked less like he was trying to push a heavy boulder uphill. And then he catches glimpses of the images. Memories not his own caress his consciousness, some so faint as to be construed as imaginary, while others are so strong as to make the Selas wonder if they were his own. The realization of what he is doing gives him pause, but the thought of achieving some level of success, even as minute as catching glimpses of the woman's memories, was encouraging. The people he recognises also encourage Simon, until his mind is suddenly filled with the visage of the Jedi Luke Skywalker. His own memories collide with that of the woman's, the conflicting emotions striking with such force as to make Simon shudder. He knew of Luke as the corruption of the Jedi, the head of a group of people whose vileness was hidden beneath layers of good intentions. Jessalyn's view of him... the strong affection, the loyalty, the peace and subtle hope... Simon blinks, and finds himself sitting on the floor, his chair toppled beside him and his brow covered in beeds of perspiration. He hadn't felt himself fall or lose touch with reality. Was it a side effect of the condition that held Jessalyn in perpetual slumber? Slowly, with his knees shaking from weakness, Simon pulls himself upright and resettles in the chair next to Jessalyn. He was tenacious when he needed to be, and wasn't going to let this setback disturb him. Stubbornly, he centers himself once more, and begins to follow the steps that he'd taken before. This time, he holds onto his wandering consciousness more tightly, risking to even go so far as to try and send a thought into the midst of those he had felt. // I am Simon Sezirok. I am here to help you, Jessalyn Valios. // Once more the memories flash and fade, echoes of tears and laughter, traces of emotions, all swirling through Jessalyn's subconscious. As Simon's search takes him deeper, however, into that realm of seeming consciousness, it becomes apparent that whatever is bottling her mind is a barrier to anything that may try to reach it from the outside, as well. Still, that part of her Self is somewhat detectable, hazed about and murky as it may be, and the emotions that permeate through the barrier are clearly positive ones: contentment, completion, even joy. As Simon's silent message reaches across to touch her conscious mind, it is met with confusion. Applied willpower can lend a certain numbness to the consciousness in regards to areas that are unpleasant. As Simon reaches through the True Source, using what the Jedi called the Force to do what the Selas knew to be the greatest sin one living creature could do, his will forces himself to ignore the internal cries within his mind. It was a great moment of loss for Simon, only what he was losing was intangible and irreparable. He was losing his innocence, drawing the moment of his sin out like an eternity. He could ignore his internal pain for an indefinite time, holding to the determination that the ends would justify the means. He could remain dead to his internal struggle, until he sensed and realized the subtle reaction to his probing. Despite the barriers holding her apart from him, trapping her away from life, he had made some sort of contact. He had found pleasant feelings, and his intrusion had brought confusion. Mentally reeling as if he'd touched something fiery hot, he gasps, losing all sense of the Force or Jessalyn Valios. Tears streak effortlessly down his cheeks. With his vision blurred, he sits back from Jessalyn's resting place, looking at her with an expression of mixed anguish and sorrow. He had committed the greatest possible sin, violating this woman he did not know in a way he would never be able to forgive. Sin of a Selas, The